Tomorrow's Doom A.4/C.29A - Transparency

Chapter 29A - Transparency

A discordant sound gnaws at my subconscious and I wake in a twisted heap, half covered by blankets, with one of my legs stuffed between the wall and my mattress. My eyes snap open and I look around groggily, squinting at the blurry darkness and groaning incoherently. Settling my gaze on the only light in the room, the glowing red numbers on my alarm clock, I try to read the time. Before I can get a clear look, there's another knock on my door that feels like someone hammering on my throbbing skull, and I grunt at it unfavorably.

Reaching clumsily for my glasses, I fumble to put them on and glance back at the clock; it's a little after three in the morning. If not for the pounding around my temples, I'd feel like I probably already got enough sleep, but it's still dark outside. Unless the building is on fire, I plan to murder whoever deigned to come knocking on my door at this hour.

It's probably Amaya...

The hazy memory of her sticking her tongue out at me yesterday afternoon replays in my head while I'm pulling my leg out from its position locked against the wall. Rolling onto the edge of the bed, I wince and curl down to wrap my arms around my knees to wait for the feeling to return to my leg. The buzzing numbness reaches all the way to my foot and I have to stifle a pained giggle. Another knock pummels my door and I snap my head up to glower at it and shout, “I'm working on it!”

Standing takes a bit of effort, and my left leg is still tingling, so I hobble over and clutch the doorknob, lingering there for a moment to try and collect myself before opening the door. Part of me wants to just yell at her to go away, but that has more to do with the headache than anything she did. Steeling myself with a breath, I pull the door open a crack and peek outside, trying to smile at the disheveled sight before me.

It's Amaya, but she looks a bit awful. The fact that she still has her school uniform on is telling, but it's the twiddling fingers, slouching posture and doe-eyed stare that are keeping me from yelling. Instead, I lean against the door jamb and cross my arms, trying to ignore my pounding head, and wait for her to speak first.

“I, um...” she starts, trailing off and sighing loudly, “Tadao kinda convinced me, and I was gonna wait 'til morning... but I figured it would be a better idea to get it over with, so I thought I'd stop by-”

“At three in the morning,” I interrupt, growing impatient with her rambling.

“I woke you, then? I'm sorry!” she says, taking a step backward, “I didn't want to wait-”

“Spit it out, then!” I grumble, more loudly than intended. The pounding at my temples is making me act more angry than I am, but the timing of her visit probably gives me a right to be annoyed.

“R-right,” she stammers, shrinking away, “I'm sorry about being mad, I'm just... just-”

“Worried?”

Even as I say the word, venomous as it sounds, I feel my shoulders relaxing. The whole thing with Shizune yesterday seems so petty, and I imagine the extra stress isn't helping anyone. “She wants me to keep it a secret is all,” I say, trying to explain, “I still don't know what she wants.”

“I still don't get her at all,” she complains, starting to shake her head, “but whatever it is, you'll tell me, right?”

Strangely, her expression doesn't seem like concern for me as much as Shizune. It hadn't even occurred to me that she would feel that way, but I suppose they have been getting along for a while. They got through an afternoon in the kitchen without killing each-other, and it was Shizune who helped settle the bet with Yoko, so I imagine she developed some respect for our Class President, if nothing else. Either way, she'd never admit it, so I leave my suspicion unspoken.

“If it's something I can tell, of course,” I reply, which makes her frown a little, “I'd expect the same if I told her something important.”

Now she turns a conflicted, questioning look at me. “You mean like-”

“Exactly.”

No need to specify...

While she's considering the implications, I lift a hand up to rub my temple. The pounding has mostly stopped, and probably had more to do with my leg being trapped than anything else, but it's lingering. When she notices my grimace, she takes a step forward with concern, but I hold up my other hand to halt her question. “I'm fine,” I assure her, waving my free hand dismissively. Her waking me probably stopped the headache from getting worse, but I decide not to mention that.

“You going back to bed?” she asks, and I don't quite know how to respond.

It's way too early, really, and I could probably get back to sleep if I tried, but, now that I'm vertical, I feel like I could do something with the time before class. “I don't know,” I reply tentatively, shrugging, “now that I'm up...”

Casting a glance back in my room feels silly since it's basically pitch black, but now that I'm awake and the headache is starting to subside, I'm not sure if I should bother going back to bed. Looking back at Amaya, she has an expectant look on her face, and it's only now I notice she still has her school bag slung across her shoulders. That coupled with her still wearing the uniform leads me to an interesting conclusion, and I can't help starting to grin and shake my head.

“Did you spend the night in the boys' dorm?” I ask, delighted by the sudden defensive shift in her posture.

Caught red-handed... red-faced? Either way, really...

Their escapades are nothing new—Hisao told me about her evening rendezvous with Tadao—but I've never caught either of them like this. The bright red shade of her cheeks and wide eyes are enough of an answer, but she replies anyway, “Yes, I-” she squeaks, “I was... uh...”

“Studying biology?” I ask, smirking sardonically.

Anatomy specifically...

“Right~!” she giggles nervously, “something like that...”

Watching the horrified look on her face, I smile and roll my eyes. “Old news, really,” I admit, letting her calm down. There's a little voice in my head saying I should be nice, especially considering the possibility of future liaisons with Hisao, so I'm not going to give her ammunition for later ridicule. Thinking back on her question, I decide to ask, “Did you have a reason to stay up?”

It takes a moment for the question to register, but she's quick to reply, “English studies~!”

Oh, well, now I'm sorry I asked...

“Big test tomorrow,” she continues, pontificating as she takes a step forward, “and I owe you for last night.”

Before I can voice a protest, she pushes past me and flips on my light, turning to giggle as I slam my eyes shut. I suspect she's probably well-rested and just wants company, but logically her offer has merit. Still, I drop my hands to my sides and groan, “Can't we just burn down the school so they cancel the exam?”

Placing a curled finger against her chin, she takes a moment to consider my suggestion, or at least imagine the possibility, before shrugging and shaking her head. “They'd just reschedule it,” she says, hopping onto my bed and looking at me with a devious grin, “and you'd have to get conjugal visits from the Swooner.”

Would that be so bad...?

“Nobody will ever find out it was me,” I protest, walking over to my desk and dropping into the chair.

“I'd know.”

“I'd toss you in the fire,” I add, starting to cackle mockingly, “but, I'd miss you terribly and think of you often.”

While I'm threatening her with cremation, she's shrugging her bag off and digging out the English textbook. Even if I wanted to refuse, I couldn't get rid of her at this point, at least not without resorting to violence. However, I do have one request before we delve into my least favorite language.

“Amaya?”

“Yeah?” Looking up, she sees my conflicted expression and stops smiling.

Not wanting to lose myself thinking about it too much, I simply blurt out, “Can we skip my birthday?”

Her immediate reaction is to frown, which doesn't surprise me. Last year, I was still a total train wreck and ended up hiding for most of that week. Before that, my attendance at the festival had been under duress, despite remembering it fondly, and even our evening at Tanabata was brief, not to mention agitating for us both. When my birthday rolled around, she tried to help, but I ended up sneaking away to find my rooftop venue so I could sulk in peace. There's a nagging, fatherly voice begging me to be stronger, trying to remind me that I should celebrate as much as I can while I'm able, but the memory is too thick, too recent.

I'm sorry, Dad, I just can't...

Still, I don't want her to worry. “I'm not gonna hide or anything,” I explain, shrugging slightly. Her frown evens out, and she raises an eyebrow, but remains silent. “I just don't feel like celebrating today...” I trail off and look away toward the floor, “y'know?”

The silence that follows feels awful, but it's understandable. She knows I'm leaps and bounds ahead of where I was last year, but my birthday still serves as a very real reminder that Dad isn't around anymore. This used to be the biggest holiday in his mind; both his daughters got preferential treatment on their respective birthdays. It's probably selfish, but I think it's justified; I think I'm allowed to feel some self pity once in a while. Realistically, I doubt she had anything planned, considering what happened last year, but I'd rather not be wrong.

Lifting my head to check her reaction, I see she's nodding and smiling, if only faintly. “Don't worry about it,” she assures me, her slight smile turning up deviously, “But...”

Always a catch...

“I'll have to cancel the surprise party,” she quips, trying to test my patience, “and the hot-air balloon, the three-ring circus...” My sarcastic eye-roll just seems to embolden her, and she continues her mockery, “Oh, and we can't forget to call the jugglers, ice-sculptors, mimes, and especially the strippers...”

When she trails off, I'm shaking my head and smirking. “Can we just start with the torture?” I gripe, reaching down to grab my school bag, “we only have three hours to make me a temporary expert on English.”

“Party pooper~!” she chides, giggling as she flips through the pages, “I was gonna get my face painted and everything...”

“I'll paint your face,” I whisper menacingly, flipping open the textbook.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

She heard me...

After that it's mostly a blur of convoluted sentence structure, ridiculous pronunciations and more than a little giggling at my persistent inability to grasp the language – mostly from Amaya, though I'm not above self-deprecating laughter. Shortly before six, with the misty morning air filtering through my open window, we decide to stop and head down to the common room for breakfast, though Amaya brings her textbook along, if only to spite me.

When we reach the empty common room, she drops the textbook down on one of the tables and heads straight for the coffee maker; she has her priorities. While she puts her culinary skills to work, I sit down and start thumbing through the book, trying to squeeze a few more bits of information into my reluctant brain. After getting things started, she sits down beside me and I look up to see a crooked smirk in place of the typically neutral expression she develops when we're studying.

“So,” she says, leaning forward, “we never finished talking the other night.”

No one expects the Yamamoto inquisition! Ugh...

Like a frightened animal, I scan around the room looking for an escape route, but I knew this conversation was coming. If I really wanted to, I could probably escape, but that wouldn't stop her from bringing it up later. Eventually we'll have this discussion, whether I like it or not, so it might as well be here and now. Settling my eyes back on her curious expression, I sigh inwardly and shrug as I'm rolling my hand to indicate I'm ready for her inquisition.

At least she waited...

“You were smiling a little too much for us not to notice,” she adds, looking proud of herself. The pluralization of her statement worries me, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; they would have to be blind not to see the stupid grin on both our faces when we got back to the bungalow.

“Were there any fireworks I should know about?”

The question doesn't really bother me, but the flitting eyebrows and lascivious tone make me uncomfortable. “No!” I blurt, losing my composure momentarily. Even though I probably don't need to explain, I'm a little tired of her suggestive commentary. “We just talked...” I say, trailing off, “and kissed...” Blushing, my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I grin stupidly as I whisper, “And there may have been some fondling.”

Inspecting her expression, which displays a lot more shock than I expected, I'm compelled to ask, “Why the look?”

There's a long pause while she stares at me, and I start wondering if the assumptions I've made about her relationship with Tadao have been misconceived. Here I thought she would just laugh at my novice experience, or say something witty and disarming, or at least not look quite so judgmental. Instead she's just staring at me with a mildly shocked expression, mouth hanging agape, seemingly frozen in disbelief.

Say something, dammit!

A toothy grin breaks across her stony expression and she leans back in the chair, folding her arms and starting to giggle. “Had you goin' there for a second~!” she chides, pushing the chair back and standing, “I'm impressed, though,” she adds, walking away from my icy glare, “I didn't expect you to admit anything like that~!”

Neither did I... what's wrong with me lately...?

“I'm not a prude!” I protest, responding to her tone, though I know that's not exactly true.

“Anything else happen?” she asks, turning back toward the stove.

While I'm still reeling from being duped like that, I'm coherent enough to realize that I could leave out the important parts. It's enough of a revelation to tell her I might be breaking out of my self-conscious anxiety, so if I left it at that, she probably wouldn't bring it up again. However, I think I want her input. If nothing else, she can tell me I'm being an idiot and not to worry about the details.

“Amaya?” I prompt, pushing the textbook away, “there's more.”

“Hmm~?” she lilts, turning a devious smirk over her shoulder, “do tell~!”

Now I'm committed to expanding on the tale, but I'm suddenly apprehensive about broaching the subject. Undoubtedly she can see the perplexed expression I'm making, but she's busy with the stove, so I at least don't have to endure her anticipatory stare. Still, I fold my arms and rest my head face down, trying to pinpoint the right words to use without sounding ridiculously desperate.

Y'know, anything other than normal...

Failing that, I decide to be vague. “He admitted something, and I said it back, but now I'm not sure it was right, and I'm probably just being stupid, but I-”

“Wa-it~!” she sings, or tries to at least, “are you saying what I think you're saying!?”

Looking up from the table, I grimace and raise an eyebrow. “Maybe...?” I say meekly.

Abandoning the pan, she takes three bounding strides back to my side and wraps an awkward hug around my shoulders. “I knew it! I knew it~!” she yells, happily into my left ear, starting to rock back and forth. Her exuberance is appreciated, but I feel a little smothered so I shrug her away to meet her beaming smile with a less enthusiastic smirk. “You dope!” she scolds, “Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I don't know,” I say, and I'm actually sure that's the right answer, “I think I was letting it sink in, or something...”

Swatting my arm, she spins and heads back to the stove. “Idiot,” she scolds, “had me worried for no good reason!”

Lifting a reflexive hand to rub my arm, I sit up and shake my head. “What were you worried about?” I ask, feeling a little bewildered.

“Well,” she replies, still looking away, “you didn't wanna talk about it, so I figured it was bad news. Then you were avoiding me-”

“I was not!” I cry in protest, but the words feel hollow; I kind of was avoiding her.

The reason why still has me tied in knots, but, while we're being honest, I might as well lay out the whole story. “Thing is, I still haven't told him...” I start, trailing off as I'm trying to think of a better word, “about the other thing.”

My cryptic description aside, Amaya seems to understand. Taking the pan with her, she starts emptying its contents into a pair of dishes, then turns a sober expression at me, asking for me to continue without saying a word. Unfortunately, there isn't much more to it than that, so I'm not sure what more there is to say. The thought of telling him now makes me cringe, and keeping it a secret almost feels worse, but I don't think I need to explain that to Amaya.

The same inner voice recommending I should just say it and get it over with is also telling me I might be thinking too far ahead. My disease won't even show itself for another fifteen years or more, and there's no guarantee anything with Hisao will last. Realistically, we could have a relationship that goes on for a while, then part amicably without him ever needing to know.

However, even if I think I can put off telling him, I can't predict what he'll do in the meantime. There's a very real possibility that he'll find out somehow and confront me with a question I'm not prepared to answer. If I have to keep lying to him, he'll eventually suspect something and that could ruin things just as easily.

This is all so unfair. Normal teenagers don't have to deal with mortality and indeterminate futures. Even most of my classmates can live through most of their teens and twenties—or further—while remaining blissfully unaware that it could all be over in an instant, but not me, or Hisao for that matter. Arrhythmia is potentially deadly, though much less predictable than Huntington's disease, and he has to think about that possibility at least sometimes.

Regardless of why he had to, it was one of the first truly important things he told me about himself, and I'm basically keeping the same kind of thing away from him. Anyone passing me on the street would never suspect I have a ticking time bomb in my brain chemistry, so I can hide it, but that doesn't mean I should. His condition could kill him, and will probably shorten his lifespan even if he's careful, but he braved telling me when he could have just stayed away.

He didn't want to stay away.

My thoughts are betrayed by the thousand-yard stare being directed at the food I'm aimlessly shoving around the plate. At least I'm not mumbling to myself, but Amaya doesn't need that much of a signal to see I'm troubled. “What're you gonna do?” she asks, and I'm left staring at her blankly.

I have absolutely no idea...

Shrugging at her question, all I can do is eat the breakfast she prepared and try not to let this all get me down. When I glance at the clock and notice it's almost six-thirty, I move to stand up and turn a bewildered look at the door. Hisao is meeting me to go swimming in a few minutes, and I'm a confused mess. Seeing the trepidation on my face, Amaya turns a sympathetic look at me and suggests, “You don't have to decide right now. Just put it out of mind, y'know?”

It's a better idea than anything I can think of right now. This week is probably not the best time to be thinking about such long-term implications anyway; at least not in my personal life. Until finals are over, I should probably try to follow Amaya's advice and just put my impending doom on the back burner. Maybe I'll hit upon an epiphany during a morning swim, or while I'm at lunch, or while I'm zoning out during a science lecture, but until that happens I'm just going to smile and try to think positive.

Easier said than done...

The pool building is no different than we left it, and Joyce is already inside when I arrive. The little wave she offers comes with a pointed finger, and I look over to see Hisao already stretching. Apparently he didn't hear my footfalls, so I'm treated to a few moments of ogling; he probably won't mind. Having already discarded his shirt, I get a clear view of his back and shoulders, which have thickened ever so slightly since we started these morning swims. He's gotten stronger in the past month, and it shows.

During the first week, he would get awful shoulder cramps that I was reluctant to help with, but now he's getting used to the strain, and it looks good on him. Whether or not it made him any more or less attractive seems irrelevant, since it made him better, stronger, faster.

I wonder if he'll invent a bionic heart...

Watching him do a few lunges, I try not to stare, knowing that Joyce is right over my shoulder, but I can think of no better way to get my mind off my troubles. While I'm watching, I wonder how many times he might have stopped to ogle me on mornings when I got here first, and I start blushing and biting my lip reflexively.

“Ahem,” Joyce says as much as grunts, causing Hisao to stop and turn. My reaction is a bit slower since I'm still a bit mesmerized, which leads him to catch me leering. There's brief flash of anxiety that crosses his face, followed by a quick wave. Meanwhile, I make an effort to look away and hide the blush, but I know that's futile.

Glancing at Joyce, I see her walking away, shaking her head, and I look back to Hisao with a girlish smirk. “You're here early,” I say, tossing my bathrobe off and flinging it toward the benches.

Every time I do that, he's flustered for a few seconds, which is probably a good thing. The school-issued suit is considerably less revealing than what I wore over the weekend, but it still effectively renders him silent for a few seconds, which gives me a nice little boost of confidence. After recovering, he finally answers, “Had some trouble sleeping, so I headed down early.”

Regardless of his excuse, I'm not bothered by his early arrival, it shows initiative. Still, his insomnia does worry me a little. “Your meds again?” I ask, walking toward the pool.

“Probably...” he replies.

“Have you talked to Nurse?”

It takes him a few moments to respond, looking like he's lost in thought. “Not yet,” he says finally, shrugging as he dips a foot into the pool to test the water, “don't worry.”

“Don't make me drag you down there,” I chide, sitting down to start my stretch routine.

He laughs a little, but it seems stilted. While I'm distracted with stretching and he's looking away, I can't really watch his face, but it seems like there's more to this than a minor case of insomnia. I don't know enough about his medication, or his specific condition, to say anything constructive, but I'm not even sure if that's what he's really worried about. Then again, I'm probably just being paranoid, so I decide not to say anything.

After I finish stretching, we start our laps, and he complains about the eighth one again; he's actually handling it fine, so I think he just likes to hear me call him a wimp. After finishing, I'm toweling myself off while he sits at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, and there's a strange silence. It's not oppressive, but Hisao looks more contemplative than normal; it's similar to the look he had before the bonfire. I'm sure there's something on his mind, but I don't think he's ready to tell me. Considering the secret I'm keeping, I don't quite feel justified asking, though I can't help being curious.

“Hey,” I call over to him, offering a warm smile, “you're going to see Nurse, right?”

“Hmm?”

The lack of attention span isn't encouraging. “About your insomnia?” I say firmly, though I'm trying not to sound too motherly; I definitely don't want to hit that tone with my boyfriend.

“Oh, that,” he says absently, “yeah, I'll head down there now.”

Standing slowly, he grabs his towel on the way up—the one I conveniently tossed to him a moment ago—and wraps it across his shoulders. Watching him walk lazily toward the bench to retrieve his clothes, I almost think the Hisao I met last month, the sullen personae I thought he'd abandoned, has returned. Every instinct is telling me I should ask why he's so spaced out, but I'm also scared of the answer; I've been let down a lot in the past.

“You okay?” I finally ask, stuffing the frightened middle-school girl back down, “you seem distracted.”

Stopping, he turns a bewildered look at me, but quickly smiles. “Sorry, just thinking,” he says, reaching down to grab his shirt, “don't worry about it—lunch later?”

Him saying not to worry makes me even more curious, but all I have to go on are my instincts and his aloof demeanor, both of which have proven wrong recently. Whatever is bothering him, he seems determined to keep it to himself. Even if it's something important, I don't want to be overbearing, so I put on a smile and decide to leave it alone for now.

“Cafeteria?” I ask, remembering his question.

“I was thinking rooftop,” he suggests, “supposed to be nice out today.”

“Sunny with a chance of Rin?” I reply, smirking.

“Meal and a free show,” he laughs, shaking his head, “we can swap exam horror stories.”

Assuming I make it through the exam...

“It's a date!” I say, somewhat more excitedly than intended.

His response comes as a beaming smile, which gets cut off when he pulls the shirt over his head. We finish dressing in silence, or he does, at least. All I have to do is toss on my bathrobe since I stopped wearing the track pants when the morning weather got warmer. Still, every morning I wait while he gets dressed and we head out together; it's been like that since we started.

Reaching the breezeway, we finally part and I linger outside the exit to watch him walking toward Nurse's office, lost in thought. Lately, I've been getting more attached to Hisao than I think I realized. Somehow I've begun to depend on a person I didn't even know two months ago, and not just when he's nearby. Even when he's not around, he fills my thoughts, and they aren't always comforting. Sometimes he makes me worry about insignificant things for no apparent reason, though that's not his fault.

Clearly something happened last night that has him distracted. The fact that he didn't tell me why seems irrelevant, I just want him to feel better. His mood swinging low like that makes me feel depressed, and although sympathetic depression isn't nearly as bad as the real thing, I wish he'd tell me what happened so I can help if I'm able. Maybe it's a little selfish, but my happiness currently depends on his, and I'm in no mood to feel depressed.

Not really having any idea what's wrong with Hisao, I don't bother mentioning it to Amaya. Until I know, she can remain blissfully ignorant; it's the least I can do. Besides, she has other business to ask about, though she waits until we're headed across the campus to spring her question.

“About Shizune,” she says, and I feel tense almost immediately.

My posture change makes her stop for a moment, but she takes a sharp breath to regain her composure. “You'd tell me if she needed help,” she glances away and hefts her backpack up with her thumbs, “right?”

Wait, what?

It takes a moment for her question to sink in, and I'm left wondering why she's so concerned. “You're worried about her?” I ask, trying not to sound accusatory.

“Well...” she trails off, keeping her eyes forward, “yeah, kinda... she's Hisao's friend, and your friend, I guess...” Admitting that much is way more than I expected, but she apparently isn't finished making revelations. “And we kinda got along over the weekend, so... I guess she's my friend, too.”

Wow...

If someone told me a month ago that Amaya would one day consider our resident Class President, Shizune 'Deaf-Charge' Hakamichi, her friend, I would have laughed hard enough to cry, but hearing her actually admit it herself, aloud, I'm shocked into silence. My reaction apparently isn't very encouraging, and she frowns as her eyes turn downward. It's a relief to know I was apparently right, but seeing her so worried makes me feel awful, and the fact that I can't do anything about it doesn't help.

Still, if there's one thing I know about Amaya, it's that she can keep something in confidence. If it's for a friend, she could probably keep a murder secret, though I don't think that will ever be a problem. With that in mind, I suddenly don't feel apprehensive about sharing what little I do know, even if it isn't much.

With that in mind, I decide to answer her question instead of teasing her admission. “Like I said, I don't really know anything,” I say, though I realize that probably won't help her feel better, “she asked me to meet her later, so I won't know until then.”

Turning a contemplative look at me, she nods slowly and even smiles a little. With nothing else to add, I just shrug and continue walking. One thing she said sticks with me as we're heading through the doors into the main building; Shizune is my friend now. Like Hisao, she's managed to become important to me over the past month, and I realize I'm just as worried about what she has to say. Unfortunately, I'll have to wait a while longer to find out, and before that I have an English exam to fail.

Or pass... anything could happen.

Last night's English studies helped me get back to a passable level of knowledge, but it didn't prepare me for the steely gaze and raised eyebrow being directed at us by our English teacher. During exam week, the tests are all given before lunch, which means we'll be spending almost the whole day with Miss Miyagi; my level of joy is almost incomprehensible—that is, non-existent. Standing beside Ito's desk guarding a thick stack of papers, her eyes watch us, or rather me, like a hawk until we're in our seats.

I don't think she likes me much...

Her hawk-like stare is accompanied by narrow features and a persistently furrowed brow. A few inches over me in height, her lithe frame always looks tense, her arms being folded almost all the time, although that might only be when I'm around. Sometimes, I'm sure she's watching me for no apparent reason, like a skyward predator circling its prey, those piercing, beady eyes watching me squirm about on the ground below. Instead of a sharp beak and talons, she attacks with confounding conjugations and haphazard homonyms; the latter two being far more terrifying in my opinion. I probably only feel that way out of spite for the subject she teaches, and I'm sure she's a sweet, caring person otherwise, but she's the mustache-twirling villain here to tie me to the railroad tracks and run me over with the language train.

I think I'm allowed to hate her.

Once everyone is seated, she hands out the exams individually, and I'm unable to meet her gaze when she passes my desk. This is probably how Amaya felt yesterday, but I'm determined to get through the test, if only to defy Miyagi's imaginary cackling. Three grueling hours later, I'm pretty sure my brain is leaking out through my ears, but I finished every last page of the exam; maybe I even passed. Amaya is a little wary when I tell her I'm heading to the roof for lunch, and she complains when I say I'm going alone, but Tadao holds her back from going ballistic. After that test, I need some time away from their smug antics.

Despite my classroom being further from the stairs than the others, I'm the first one up to the roof. Hisao is probably getting lunch from the cafeteria, so I have a few minutes to myself. His prediction about the weather is spot on, as there's a nice light breeze cutting through the warm air with hardly a cloud in the sky. The sound of distant rustling leaves and birdsong float up over the gray, rocky rooftop, and the smell of summer flowers permeate the atmosphere. After the painfully strenuous English exam, the peace and quiet up here seems like just what I needed.

There aren't any birds of prey hovering overhead, either...

The door is somewhat distant, but I hear the hinges creak and I turn to see Hisao stepping out onto the sunlit roof with a blank expression. It takes a second for him to notice me as I've gotten down near the far end, but he's quick to wave and point toward the picnic tables. Joining him, I set my lunch down and smirk at a strange realization; this is the first time we've been alone in days. While that thought sinks in, I realize he probably picked this location on purpose, perhaps for that very reason, which makes me wonder whether he has something to say in private; it's just us and the birds.

“So, how was the English exam?” he asks, making me frown unintentionally.

“Can we not talk about that?” I request, sighing inwardly, “I'm still recovering.”

Laughing, he nods, and I'm left to start chuckling nervously. While he's unpacking his lunch, I notice a conspicuously unwrinkled, brown paper bag that he's leaving off to the side. The way he sets it down nonchalantly, but looks at me the whole time it's in his hand, makes me think it's something special, though the package is a little mundane. Today is my birthday, and he knows that as well as Amaya, but he doesn't quite know how touchy a subject it is for me; I hope he isn't planning anything. However, since he doesn't mention it, and I don't want to make any stupid assumptions, I choose to ignore it as we eat and chat.

After we finish eating, we're still chatting about his history exam, which wasn't as bad as he expected. While he's talking about the essay questions, I notice him casting quick glances toward the bag again, and my curiosity peaks.

“What's with the bag?” I blurt, stopping him mid-sentence.

Leaving little room for misunderstanding, I point at the conspicuous package and stare at him. The gesture makes him cringe a little, but he quickly relaxes into a soft smile. Without a word of explanation, he opens the bag and reaches inside, drawing out a single chocolate cupcake and a little candle. He looks a little bewildered as I'm watching the reveal, but when I start grinning like an idiot, he sighs contentedly and starts chuckling.

“I figured you'd want your birthday to be low-key,” he explains, planting the candle in the messy patch of blue frosting atop the dainty confection. “There was going to be a whole cake, but this seemed more appropriate” he explains, but I'm barely listening.

When I told Amaya I didn't want to celebrate, I was imagining a much more grandiose sort of event, but this I can handle. “It's perfect~!” I say, clapping my hands girlishly and leaning forward, “thank you.”

“I'd sing, but you don't want to hear that,” he says flatly, leaning back to smirk at my rolling eyes. Reaching into a pocket, he produces a small lighter and uses it to put flame to the candle. “Happy Birthday, Aiko; make a wish.”

How quaint...

Despite how silly I think wishing on birthday candles is, I don't want to squander the opportunity. This has been a difficult year, but I'm thankful for a lot of things; many of which happened in the past month. If I can dare to wish for something completely selfish, I just want the recent trend to continue. Knowing some of my future will be even more difficult than anything I've yet faced, I want my time until then to stay happy, and that goes for all the people around me. Closing my eyes to make it official, I lean forward and puff a breath to extinguish the flame, then open my eyes and smile.

“What'd you wish for?” Hisao asks, tilting his head inquisitively.

“It won't come true if I tell you,” I chide, sitting back and folding my arms. Laughing lightly, he nods and doesn't pry any further.

The rest of the lunch period is spent picking at the cupcake and talking about past birthdays. Apparently Hisao's parents keep a detailed record of his birthday events, complete with embarrassing pictures they bring out every year. The last few years were more subdued events involving just a few of his school friends, and he gets a contemplative expression when he's talking about some of their antics.

My darling sister and I used to cause all kinds of disasters around the house, but Hisao doesn't have any siblings to share that kind of mischief with. As much as I had Midori to get in trouble with, Hisao had his friends. Apparently Hisao was quite popular, though he remained somewhat shy and introverted. I'm almost jealous of his school experience since mine wasn't quite so spectacular, but, then again, I didn't really have any reason to miss the kids I left behind when I came to Yamaku. On the other hand, Hisao had a whole troupe of friends whom he hasn't seen in almost half a year.

It's a hard thing to keep reminding myself that he had a life before he walked into mine, but he just fit so easily that it's easy to forget. None of his reminiscing sounds like a complaint, though. Even as he meanders through the silly tales of his wasted youth, he does seem to avoid some subjects, and some people. The memories he keeps are the good ones, I gather, and that's probably the best way to think about the past. That's what I try to do, though I'm not particularly successful.

When the bell rings, we're still talking and laughing, and we have to scramble to get our mess cleared up before dashing down the stairs. The crowd coming up from the cafeteria winds its way up the stairwell while we're standing on the mid-floor landing. With the noise of shuffling feet and loud conversation, all we can really do is stand there and watch.

Kenta passes by with Yoko, and they manage to look away from each-other long enough to smile and wave. The prideful smirk on my face leads Hisao to sigh and shake his head, but I don't feel the least bit bad about getting them together; it's doing wonders for Yoko's self-esteem, and probably Kenta's. Besides, I didn't really do much more than invite them both along for the weekend, like any friend would.

Okay, I did conspire to get them alone, but that was just one time...

Once the crowd thins, we make our way back along the halls and I give Hisao a peck on the cheek before leaving him at room 3-3; he deserves some public recognition for the cupcake. My display causes a stir of activity inside his classroom, and I feel positively devilish for leaving him to face their crooning, but that was the plan. There's a skip in my step as I make my way along the hall, grinning broadly, until I reach my own classroom.

Back under Miyagi's purview, I abandon the skip for a shuffle, and cross the room to my seat quickly. The ninety minute English class feels like a waste of time now that we've finished the final, but I'm smiling too much to care. Eventually the academic discussion falters, and Miyagi sits down to start going over some of the completed tests, leaving the class to splinter into little discussion groups.

Amaya is curious about my sudden shift in mood, but isn't surprised when I say it's because of Hisao. Thinking about the lunch hour, I realize there should have been a crowd of people on the roof, but we had it to ourselves. That makes me wonder if he planned it that way, maybe going so far as to ask Emi to stand guard. A well-placed sign could have deterred people from heading up there for lunch, and he could easily have removed it afterward without me noticing. Whatever the case, I can't stop smiling even as we head into more History review.

It isn't until the end of class that my smile finally fades. Looking at the clock on the way out the room, I begin to wonder exactly what “after class” means to Shizune. Hopefully she doesn't expect me to run down there immediately, since I really feel like changing out of my uniform. Making my way through the halls, I try spotting her or Misha so I can ask, but I'm probably over-thinking this. Amaya doesn't share my apprehension, instead retaining a healthy disdain for Shizune's obsession with punctuality, and advises me to take my time.

Taking her advice, I head back to my dorm and change into some casual jeans and a light green t-shirt, but I find myself walking faster than normal on my way out the gates. Part of it is probably my desire to get this over with, but her directions are so cryptic that I feel like I need to rush. Besides that, I keep looking back over my shoulder to make sure I'm not being followed. While I trust Amaya to keep a secret, I have much less confidence in her patience.

Making a conscious decision to slow down, I notice there aren't any other students making their way down the road into town; somehow I thought I'd see Shizune out here. Either she left right after class and has been waiting for half an hour, or I'm ahead of her and I'll be stuck staring at the walls of the Shanghai, chomping at the bit for however long it takes her to arrive. Either way, I plan to order something expensive to get her back for giving me imprecise directions.

Yeah, that'll teach her...

The storefronts along the street usually distract me when I make trips into town, and I'm prone to stop and do some window shopping, but not today. The Shanghai is down along a little side-street with a few other restaurants nearby, and I'm determined to get there without being side-tracked. It being such a nice day, there are a number of people out and about, and I catch a few wayward glances—a few of which from some younger students in Yamaku uniforms—but I just smile and continue walking.

Finally I round a corner and see the faint, decorative kanji sign over the traditional storefront, and I'm standing in front of the Shanghai's door a few moments later. For just a moment, I wonder whether I'm being lured out here to be shanghaied, but that just makes me laugh; Shizune wouldn't do that – at least I don't think she would. Trying to peer through the glass is futile, so I pull the door open and wince at the ringing bells as the smell of tea and baked goods rushes over me. The dim interior is further dimmed by hardwood paneling and dark tiled floors, but the large windows let in enough light to see that Shizune isn't here yet.

Just as that thought is sinking in, there's a clatter from the back room, followed by a pained squeal. Evidently Yuuko is working today, which I think might be a blessing since she won't have to deal with the library traffic.

“You alright?” I call out toward the closed door.

There's a short delay, followed by a squeaking gasp as the door flies open. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear the-” she stops and looks me over, “bell.”

After finishing her sentence, she looks a little confused, but I'm no less shocked. She stands in the doorway for a few seconds while we stare at each-other, and I start to feel like I did something wrong in coming here.

They're open, right?

“Are you open?” I ask nervously, glancing back toward the door, looking for a sign.

“What- yes!” she blurts, taking a few steps forward and bowing apologetically, “of course, I'm sorry!”

While the door swings on its double hinge behind her, she continues bowing, and I realize it's quite strange. At Yamaku, she's something like an authority; guardian of the Dewey decimal system. Despite being mousy and always appearing on the verge of a panic attack, she does hold some power over the students visiting the library. Seeing her dressed in an apron and bowing like a servant makes me feel uncomfortable.

“Can I sit somewhere?” I ask, as much to end the exchange as to get off my feet.

“Yes, anywhere,” she replies, waving a hand around the empty dining hall. It's only after I take a look around that I notice there's nobody else here. Most Yamaku students are probably focusing on studying, and it's a strange time of day to visit a tea-house, so I have my choice of booth.

Knowing Shizune probably desires as much seclusion as possible, I angle toward one of the back booths, away from the windows. After sitting down, I look back at Yuuko and frown; she probably expects me to order something. Realizing where I am, I decide to make the most of it and order some tea, but I'm not much of a tea-drinker.

“What kind of tea do you have?” I ask, which leads Yuuko to take a deep breath.

After she's done listing the fifteen different kinds of tea available, I don't feel any more informed than when I sat down. In the interest of moving things along, I decide to let her pick one. “Okay,” I say, smiling kindly, “I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending I understood that; just bring me one of your favorites?”

The look of horror she returns isn't encouraging, but I trust her. If she can recall all their names that easily, she can probably pick one for a novice. After another bow, she scurries back through the door and I'm left to sit and wonder why Shizune isn't here yet; she would probably know what to order, at least.

It's possible she forgot, but I really doubt that. Considering Amaya's reaction, I imagine Misha could have been more difficult to shake. If she didn't tell Misha about the meeting, which seemed like the case, she would have to sneak away somehow, which I imagine is more difficult when you can't hear your own footsteps. Then again, this could just be some kind of test, and she has no intention of showing up, but I don't think she'd be that cruel.

As that thought is passing, I hear the bells ringing and feel the warm air rush over me from outside. Turning to see Shizune standing in the doorway, I breath out a relieved sigh and hold up a hand to wave her over. Greeting me with an even smile, I notice she apparently decided to change into more casual attire; a black blouse with the sleeves rolled up, black slacks and boots, and topping it off with dark sunglasses.

She looks like Trinity...

Whether her choice of clothing is intentionally spy-like or not, I find it amusing, so I'm holding back a laugh as she sits down. Covering my mouth isn't very effective at stopping my shoulders from shaking, but her icy glare as she removes the sunglasses helps me regain my composure. The slight smile she cracks is followed by an exasperated sigh, but I don't think it's my reaction that bothers her. Apparently she must have had to sneak away, and dressed the part, but she's starting to realize how silly she looks.

[Have you been here long?] she asks, to which I shake my head and clear my throat, trying to stuff down the chuckles.

[What's this about?] I ask, hoping she isn't planning to draw this out further.

Her reply comes as an upraised hand, indicating she intends to wait. It's not unexpected, but I'm still disappointed. [Yuuko went to pick a tea for me,] I mention, nodding toward the door, [I didn't know what to order...]

My lack of experience doesn't bother her, which she indicates with a shrug. While we're waiting for Yuuko to emerge, there's a strange silence. Not that I expect much sound when Shizune is around by herself, but she seems uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Usually there's a kind of calm serenity around Shizune despite her energetic personality, but her typical air of confidence seems disrupted. Whatever she has to tell me, it's enough to make her nervous, and that bothers me.

Finally Yuuko exits from the back room with a pot of tea and two cups arranged on a platter; either she noticed Shizune joined me, or she's more scattered than I thought. Considering that she makes no note of my guest, I assume it's the former. I can hear the cups rattling while she's setting down the platter, and I keep my eyes down so as not to make her more nervous; I don't want to end up wearing a pot of hot tea.

After managing to set the platter down without incident, she offers a few more polite bows and steps back through the door. It's still strange being served by someone who I'm supposed to see as a kind of authority figure, but it doesn't appear to bother Shizune; she's probably used to it by now. Setting her sunglasses down on the table, she motions for me to do something with the tea, but all I can do is stare blankly.

This whole tea-service thing is completely alien to me, so I hold out a hand toward the pot and smile, deferring to her judgment. She looks at me with a slight frown for a moment, but it doesn't take long for her to figure out my intent from the lost look on my face. Strangely, it's now that I realize this is the first time I've been alone with Shizune in all three years I've known her; somehow it's exactly what I expected.

Nerve-racking.

With skilled diligence, she goes about pouring tea for us both, which I try to pay attention to in case there's a test. After setting the pot aside, she leaves her cup in place. Not knowing why, I mimic her and leave mine to sit and... cool? That might be it, but I'm no expert. After a few moments I sit back and try to relax my shoulders, but this whole situation is making me uncomfortable; I still don't know why I'm here, Shizune is acting strange, and I don't have the first idea how I'm supposed to act.

When she starts signing, I almost miss what she's saying. [I didn't mean to make you nervous,] she says with a slight bow, [this isn't comfortable for me, either.]

That seems like an understatement...

[It's fine, I'm just not used to the place,] I reply, pausing to wave a hand around at the unfamiliar surroundings, [and you haven't even told me why I'm here.]

Nodding, she leans back and sighs lightly, reaching up to rub the bridge of her nose. After a moment, she reaches into a blouse pocket and extracts her regular glasses, hanging them on her face and blinking a few times. [My diligence led to an indiscretion,] she explains cryptically, [and I didn't know how to handle it.]

Trying to process what she's trying to tell me just makes me more confused. However, there's something in her expression that tells me it's not just a simple mistake. [Indiscretion? What do you mean?] I ask, figuring that was the important part.

[You know I have access to student records for administrative purposes?] she asks, to which I nod. The Student Council files attendance reports and has limited access to student records so they can confirm volunteers have the ability to perform certain tasks. When I set up the schedules for my class booth, I had access to those records so I didn't end up causing medical conflicts; it's standard procedure.

I don't see why that's relevant, though...

My slow nod as I'm thinking it over serves as a good enough response for Shizune to continue. [I was going over the Tanabata schedules to check for any schedule conflicts, and-] she stops and frowns, slumping her shoulders, [I got curious.]

The pause gives me a few moments to think over what she might mean, but Tanabata was almost two weeks ago, so I'm not sure what she could have found that took her this long to ask me about. Yoko was supposed to take my shift that day, but she went to the hospital and Amaya ended up taking over with Tadao. It was an eventful day, but nothing noteworthy was wrong with the schedule. Still, if it was that long ago, it would explain why she's been evasive around me for the past couple weeks.

[Was there a schedule conflict?] I ask, trying to lead her along.

[No, nothing like that!] she replies quickly, curtly, and it's now I notice there are tears in her eyes. Whatever she found, I don't think it was a scheduling problem, and I don't think she would call a meeting like this just to reprimand me in any case. [I read something I shouldn't have,] she signs, heaving a breath, [it was none of my business.]

She didn't...

My thoughts are starting to coalesce, but I don't quite believe myself. [What was none of your business?] I ask, trying to keep the horrified look off my face.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself isn't enough, so she takes a sip of her tea. After setting it down, she beckons me to lean forward, and I comply slowly. The despondent grimace on her face and the apologetic posture tell me this is difficult, but I'm starting to understand what this is about, and I understand why she wanted the privacy.

[I was checking to make sure the schedule change was above board,] she says, [and I went beyond the top-sheet.]

That revelation all but confirms my horrible suspicion. The top-sheet on student files contains all the relevant information pertinent to ensuring they're medically capable of performing tasks. Things like Amaya's epilepsy, Hisao's arrhythmia and my deadened ear are listed there, along with some basic complications they can cause. Student Council members should never need to look deeper than the top-sheet for any needed information, but apparently Shizune looked beyond that limitation, and saw something she shouldn't have.

[I didn't intend-]

The slap across her face happens before I can even think, but I'm not sorry. To her credit, she doesn't even react other than to place a hand against her cheek. Watching her rub the reddened patch, the only thing stopping me from getting up and storming away, or slapping her again, is the fact that she looks more mortified than I feel angry.

Furious, actually... not to mention violated...

Yuuko appears in the doorway, drawn out by the loud slap, hands suspended in front of her as her eyes shoot between me and Shizune, and I don't know what to do with myself. After a few moments, Shizune holds up a hand and pats the air, indicating that she's fine. The shocked expression fades from Yuuko's face, and she slowly backs through the door, all the while locking eyes with me warily.

The fact that I'm heaving angry breaths and feel like my face might explode would make anyone wary, but I'm regaining control. From the apologetic look on her face, I'm sure Shizune doesn't blame me for striking her, but, as I calm down, it starts to bother me that I'd do something like that. [I'm sorry,] I say, as much to myself as her, [you probably deserved that, but-]

[It's fine,] she interrupts me, taking her hand away from the welt and grimacing, [I know it was wrong. I don't expect forgiveness.]

That makes me cringe a little, but it doesn't surprise me she'd think that. If I were in her position, I wouldn't expect her to forgive me. Still, not wanting there to be any doubt, I decide to confirm my assumption. [You read about my other condition,] I say as much as ask, and watch her nod before taking a deep breath and trying to remember the proper gestures.

[Huntington's disease,] she signs before I can remember. Seeing her sign the words, her face locked in a solemn stare, gives me pause. Thinking about what she must have gone through over the past couple weeks makes me feel sick.

My first reaction was to slap her, and I do think it was deserved, but, as I calm down, I realize I don't want to lose her as a friend. Inviting her along for the weekend was Hisao's request, but I had no objections, I even supported the idea. Meanwhile she was hiding knowledge of my imminent doom, ill-gotten as it may have been, trying to smile and act casual while carrying around a horrible secret.

I've been there...it's no picnic.

While I, and even Amaya, have begun to think of Shizune as a friend rather than just a classmate, or the Class President, she's probably begun thinking about us in the same way; as friends. Looking into my file was probably an act of idle hands combined with friendly curiosity and access, and she's suffered for it since. She said she doesn't expect forgiveness, despite how much her expression is begging for absolution, but I think she suffered enough.

[I should be furious,] I sign, realizing I'm actually not angry anymore, [but I'm not.]

Leaning back, her face goes from horrified to curious. [You're not?]

Shaking my head to confirm, I slide down along the bench until I'm against the wall and motion for her to do the same. Once she's all the way over, I explain, [Amaya is the only other person who knows, and I want it to stay that way for now.]

Assuming Shizune didn't tell anyone...

Taking a moment to think that over, she starts nodding slowly. [You're really not mad?]

[You suffered enough,] I assure her, pointing at her face, still glowing red from the slap, [besides, I'd rather have a friend know than an enemy.]

That makes her smile, and I end up smiling reflexively. Still, there's one more thing I need to ensure before I'll write it off completely. Leaning forward to add gravity to my question, I bite my lip while I ask, [You didn't tell anyone else, right?]

After a moment, she squares her shoulders and replies, [Nobody, not even Misha.]

At least there's that...

If word got out somehow, I don't know what I'd do; probably dig a hole and bury myself. It's not an embarrassing secret, and I don't want to describe it as mortifying, but I don't want it hanging over my head like a doom clock. If I had to endure a school full of eyes imagining a countdown hanging over my head, I'd want to hide forever. It's bad enough getting that feeling from family and the few people whom I've trusted with the knowledge without seeing it in everyone's face.

[Then it's fine,] I reply, and lean forward to clarify, [keep it to yourself, but you're otherwise forgiven.]

Her sober nod is followed by a relieved smile, and her posture relaxes visibly. [I assumed that immediately,] she explains, starting to shake her head, [I never even considered telling anyone until I talked to you. I tried-] she stops and frowns, [over the weekend, but-] Instead of continuing, she stops and shrugs. I can surmise what she went through, and, recalling the times she seemed to pull herself out of a conversation, I think I understand why she's been evasive around me.

[Don't worry about it, really,] I sign, feeling the last of the anger roll away, [and I'm sorry about the slap.]

Shaking her head, she replies, [I expected worse.]

Considering the possible list of people who could have found out, I'm glad it was Shizune; at least she's discreet. In the meantime, there are now two people at Yamaku who know about my disease, aside from the medical staff, of course, and unfortunately neither of them are Hisao. That bothers me more than Shizune's indiscretion, honestly. If this is a litmus test for how he might react to finding out on his own, and how I might react to finding out he knows for that matter, it makes telling him seem that much more important.

While I'm sitting here silently considering things, Shizune is watching me with increasing curiosity. When she taps the table to get my attention, I see her furrowing her brow and holding up her hands, as if caught between asking a question and choosing to remain silent. After a few moments, she shrugs and decides to ask her question, [You haven't told Hisao?]

For a second or two, I consider slapping her again, but the last time was completely on auto-pilot, so I don't see that happening. Besides, she has a point. Despite my best efforts, I've been failing hard at solving the Hisao problem, and her confusion is warranted; I should have already told him. Somehow I don't think the answer I have will sit well, but it's the only one that currently makes sense.

[It's complicated.] Even signing the words makes me feel like a failure.

This is where I expect her to challenge my indecision with justifiable outrage, or at least pummel me with a speech about propriety, but instead I'm met with a bewildered nod. Like Amaya, Shizune doesn't seem to have any helpful words to offer, so she remains silent. The similarity isn't lost on me, but I'll neglect to mention it to either of them; I fear what they might do to the messenger. Their lack of advice doesn't help me in any case, and I'm starting to think there isn't a good answer.

The rest of our outing is spent talking amicably. She has a lot of uncomfortable questions that I don't like answering, but I went through this with Amaya once already. We end up staying through two orders of cake and a second pot of tea, which turns out better than I expected; I could learn to like tea if it always came with cake. There's a small crowd filtering in for dinner when we're headed out, and we end up walking all the way back to the dorms together. Parting in the stairwell, she requests that I ask Amaya if she wouldn't mind talking with her, and I don't think I need to ask why.

When I arrive back at my dorm with a sleepy gait and a full stomach, Amaya greets me with suspicious accusations, but I decide not to hold anything back. Telling her how Shizune found out almost sends her out the door to march over and inflict physical pain on our Class President, but when I tell her I already took care of that, she settles down. Informing her that Shizune has some questions for her makes her shrug non-noncommittally, but there's a curious half-smile on her face as she departs. I don't want to jinx their fledgling friendship, and it's a morbid thought, but I think my disease might actually bring them closer.

What a disturbing legacy...

After she leaves, I find myself sitting at my desk with a bewildered stare directed at the wall. This has been a strange day, and I'm not sure how to process its events. On one hand, I'm probably closer to Shizune now, and that's probably a good thing; she's fun and impish when she isn't being blunt and competitive. However, I don't quite know what that means. Her finding out about my disease is probably the last thing I expected, and I'm not proud of my initial reaction, but I have someone else I can confide in now; not that Amaya hasn't been helpful.

My door clicks and swings open suddenly, and I turn to see Amaya beaming a smile. “By the way; Happy Birthday~!” she chirps, hanging against the door for a few seconds, “I'm making dumplings if you're interested.”

Um, what...? Oh...

Lofting a hand, I wave slightly and shrug, but she doesn't wait for me to speak before closing the door. “Come down when you feel like it~!” she shouts as she's walking down the hallway.

“Some birthday,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head.

Sitting here staring at the wall isn't particularly productive, so after a few minutes I decide to make my way down for dinner; not that I really feel like eating—cake at the Shanghai is not a lie. There will probably be a small crowd there to watch television, eat, and laugh about the day, and I could really use some background noise, if only to drown out my own thoughts. Usually I'm not one to spend much time outside my room, but it's not because I don't feel welcome. I think I'm afraid of being asked questions I don't want to answer, and that's a hard thing to admit to myself.

What do I really have to hide...?

As I'm stepping into the common room, the answer to that internal question starts to bother me; everything. Since coming to Yamaku and theoretically breaking out of my antisocial shell, I thought I'd gotten better at being open with people. However, Shizune's revelation, and the following conversation, showed me that I've been hiding a lot more than I thought. Looking around the room, I realize that I know more—a lot more—about most of them than I've been willing to reveal about myself; even among people I only ever see occasionally in the dorms.

Sora, laughing and chatting with Amaya as I'm looking around, sits behind us in class, and she's been in a wheelchair since she was eight; condemned to live out her life as a paraplegic after a horse-riding accident. Sitting at the nearby table are Kasumi and Mia, who sit in the far corner of my classroom, behind Yoko. Mia was born deaf and has three older brothers who are similarly afflicted. Kasumi needs leg braces to walk because of muscular dystrophy, and her older sister took a lower paying job in town so she could help her out on weekends. If I think hard enough, I can probably remember all of their birthdays. However, their knowledge of me is limited to a few brief conversations in class, most of which happened when I was campaigning for the class representative position.

At least I know my constituency....

Thinking back, I'm almost certain neither of them knows I have a little sister, or that she's living with my mom in Italy. Almost nobody knows what I went through in middle-school, or that Dad slowly withered away rather than simply dying in an accident. Even the fact that today is my birthday is probably only known by a few people in this room. None of that should really be that difficult to tell people, especially the good things about family, but I can count on one hand how many people know all of that for certain, and individually the numbers aren't much higher. Considering that, it's actually amazing how much I've told Hisao after only a month, but I still feel like I'm hiding things intentionally; though with him it's the really big, bad things.

With dinner eaten, and after an extended period spent zoning out watching old sitcom reruns, I groan in protest when Amaya pulls me by the arm and practically drags me up the stairs. We have another final tomorrow morning--for science!--so I should probably thank her for being the responsible one for once, but I'm no less wound up when my head hits the pillow. Like usual, my brain takes longer to shut off than I'd prefer, and my last recollection before drifting off to sleep is the time on my alarm clock rolling over to midnight.

I've had worse birthdays...